


Violated

by charis2770



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alive Marco Bott, Anal Sex, Belts, Dorks in Love, Jean will also be snarky forever, Light Bondage, M/M, Marco will live forever I don't care, Outdoor Sex, Rape Fantasy, Rape Roleplay, Roleplay, Rough Sex, Slash, Spanking, This should surprise exactly no one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-28 01:16:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8424988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charis2770/pseuds/charis2770
Summary: Jean is out splitting firewood for winter when a boy he knows just to say hello to from town shows up. Jean's all alone, and the look in this guy's eye does not look entirely sane.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been a really long time coming. It started out when someone asked Jean and Marco about fantasies on my Tumblr, BDSMfordummies-with-Erwin-Smith. Jean confessed he's always had a fantasy about being taken against his will. Marco, being Marco, is more than happy to help fulfill it, but only after lots and lots of planning and negotiation. 
> 
> In the story, it reads as though it's really happening, so please be aware of that if you're triggered by nonconsensual stuff! It's actually VERY consensual, but that isn't realized until near the end.
> 
> Also, Jean and Marco decided that the whole thing would work better if Jean was a few years younger than he really is, so the term "boy" is used for the characters whereas in my world they're consenting adults.

He stops for a minute to stretch, rolling his tight shoulders as he sets down the axe and lifts his arms over his head. Autumn is here already, the nights crisp and cool. Winter won’t be far behind, and they’re going to need plenty of wood to make it through. Better to split as much of it as he can now, before it’s too cold out. A soft breeze ruffles his hair and cools the light sweat on his skin. It feels nice. He smiles, thinking of nights spent cozy and warm in front of the fire, and bends over to pick up the axe.

 

“What a nice view.”

 

Jean gasps a little at the sound of that voice and straightens abruptly, whirling to face the intruder who has come up behind him without him noticing. His eyes take in the rough canvas trousers, the stained work shirt unbuttoned over and even dirtier undershirt. His brain takes a moment to process what he’s seeing, then nerves tighten his throat and belly. 

 

“Wh-what are you doing here?” he asks breathlessly. The butcher’s son. What’s his name? Mark, he thinks. They don’t know each other, except to say hello when he’s in town, but he’s felt the older boy’s eyes on him. Hot, greedy...they’ve always made him nervous. He’s gone out of his way to be polite, because he’s always felt vaguely like this was a guy who’d just as soon punch him in the face if he looked at him wrong. He doesn’t know why he feels this way. Just something about the guy.

 

“You’re a tease, Jean,” says Mark in a low voice, taking a step closer. “You’ve been leading me on for a long time, when I’ve been nothing but nice to you. Talkin’ so sweet to me, comin’ around lookin’ the way you do, then leavin’ me hanging again and again…”

 

“No,” Jean interrupts quickly, because oh god, what the fuck? “No...I...I’m sorry if you’ve gotten the wrong impression. I just meant to be polite. I...I have a boyfriend.”

 

“Not a very good one,” says Mark, still softly, though he might as well be screaming because he’s just as scary for some reason. That look in his eye. Jean needs to get out of here, fast. “Not if he lets you run around on him, flirting with other guys.”

 

“I don’t!” cries Jean, then gulps a little when he sees anger flash in Mark’s dark eyes. “I mean, I don’t mean to. Look, I really am sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. Um. You should probably go, though. My boyfriend...he’ll be here soon.”

 

“That’s a lie, Jean, and you know it. He’s out with his squad on patrol. I saw them leave less than an hour ago. You’re a liar. And a flirt. And a tease. And…” 

 

He’s suddenly right in front of Jean, who tries to step back, but Mark’s hand flashes out and fists in the front of his shirt.

 

“I’m tired of it,” he adds in a low growl, and smashes his mouth down on Jean’s in a brutal kiss. Jean’s in the middle of opening his mouth to protest, so Mark’s tongue forces its way roughly inside. It’s not the way Jean likes to be kissed at all. He feels like he’s going to choke on the older boy’s tongue. He puts his hands against Mark’s chest and shoves as hard as he can, scrubbing the back of his hand over his mouth when his assailant stumbles back. 

 

“You’re wrong,” says Jean, hating the thread of panic he can hear in his voice. “You’re wrong. I’m out of here. Just...leave me alone!” 

 

He turns to run, but something sweeps his feet out from under him and he falls heavily. Mark is on top of him in seconds, pinning him to the ground. Jean struggles for all he’s worth, kicking and bucking, squirming like an eel. He nearly manages to free himself, then cries out in pain as his arm is wrenched painfully up behind his back.

 

“You’re not going anywhere.” Mark’s breath is hot in his ear, and his fear intensifies when he realizes he can feel the bigger boy’s cock grinding against his ass through their pants. “Not until I get what I came for.”

 

The butcher’s son drags him to his feet, still pinning his arm up high behind his shoulder. Tension sings through the joint, and Jean can tell that it wouldn’t take much effort at all for it to be torn out of socket. When Mark drags him to the wood pile and shoves him over it, his grip loosens a little and Jean breaks his hold. He turns and throws a punch that skids off the side of Mark’s face as he dodges, not doing much damage at all and only serving to make the other boy angrier. He wades in, his knee coming up to make contact with Jean’s stomach. It knocks the breath from his lungs in an explosive gasp and he buckles, mouth working soundlessly as he tries to gasp for air. Mark’s hand fists in his shaggy hair, making his eyes water as it pulls painfully.

 

“That was stupid,” snarls Mark, grappling him again, getting the upper hand with ease because Jean can’t fucking breathe. He’s forced over the woodpile again, struggling weakly as Mark’s hands deftly unbuckle a couple of straps on his harness, yanking it down over his shoulders. It effectively pins his arms to his sides. He kicks out as Mark calmly rebuckles it in place, but his efforts are avoided with depressing ease.

 

“Let me go,” he cries in a panic, but Mark just laughs in a low, terrifying way.

 

“I don’t think so. You shouldn’t have fought me, Jean. Now I’ll have to punish you, too.”

 

Jean’s brain short-circuits in panic when rough hands reach around and yank at his belt. The readjustment of his harness has loosened it enough that it’s not very hard for his attacker to pull his pants roughly down over his ass to bunch around his thighs, serving only to tighten the straps more and bind his legs together. Even if he could stand up now, he’d trip over his own feet if he tried to run. All the spit dries up in his mouth when he feels something cold stroke softly over the exposed skin at the small of his back. He’s dead certain it’s the point of a knife, drawing little circles in the vicinity of his kidneys. He can hear the Corporal’s cool voice in hand to hand class, telling them matter of factly how all you’ve got to do to drop someone, dead as a stone in a split second, is to slip your blade in right  _ there _ , as he used Eren to demonstrate, poking him at the small of his back and making Eren yelp a little. He goes very, very still, hardly daring to breathe.

 

“You’re going to be real good for me now, aren’t you, Jean?” asks Mark pleasantly. Jean nods vehemently, not daring to speak. A soft whimper escapes his lips when he hears the familiar sound of leather slithering against cloth. 

 

“He’s taking off his belt,” he thinks wildly, recalling vividly how it makes him feel when Marco does it. This is nothing like that though. Nothing at all. 

 

“We’ll just get this little bit of unpleasantness outta the way, then we can have some fun,” says Mark solemnly. “You shouldn’ta lied to me, Jean. I don’t like that.”

 

“I’m sorry,” babbles Jean breathlessly. “I really am! You don’t...you don’t need to do this. I won’t...I...AHH!” 

 

His desperate apologies are cut off by a burst of hot pain as thick leather cracks hard across both cheeks of his exposed ass. Fuck, it hurts! Mark’s pretty strong, and he’s not holding back much. He brings the belt down again, even harder. Jean cries out again at the flare of pain. He bites his lip hard, trying not to make a sound at the next stroke, not wanting to give his attacker the satisfaction. He won’t make another sound. He can take it, he can. His determination lasts through two more blistering strokes of leather on his bare skin, but it just really….really fucking hurts, and he wails in pain when the belt catches him across the tops of his thighs, shivering but not daring to struggle because he knows Mark’s got his knife back there. He can hear the older boy grunt softly as he lays into Jean, whipping him harder. Tears spring up in his eyes and he blinks furiously to try and clear them.

 

“I won’t cry,” he thinks angrily. “I won’t!”

 

But he does anyway. He can’t help it. He’s scared and vulnerable, and there’s no one anywhere nearby who can help him, and it just finally hurts too damn much. His shoulders shake as he sobs a little, hot tears sliding down his cheeks to fall in dark droplets on the brown and red and orange leaves on the ground below him. He hears a muffled thump, a soft crackle of leaves that is the belt dropping from Mark’s grip. Rough hands grip his stinging, burning cheeks, fingers digging in, and he whimpers in fear when they spread him. He can feel the cool air on his asshole, and Mark hums softly in appreciation. His face flushes hot in embarrassment as seconds pass while he lays there, rough wood digging into his stomach, his eyes stinging with tears.

 

“Oh god, he’s looking at me...there,” he thinks. It goes on long enough that a faint hope springs up in his chest that Mark has changed his mind, that he can’t, after all, go through with what he’d intended when he came here.

 

This hope is disabused when he feels something warm and wet splat against his twitching hole. It’s spit. Oh fuck...fuck, that’s….He gasps when Mark’s thumb brushes against his tight, puckered flesh, smearing the spit around. A soft cry escapes when the thumb disappears, replaced by two fingers spearing into his body. 

 

“Stop,” he gasps, shuddering when the fingers twist inside him. “Please stop!” Mark chuckles, low and mean. His fingers pump slowly, deeper, in and out.

 

“I don’t think so,” says Mark. His voice is rough with a dark lust Jean can feel like a greasy touch on his skin. “You look good like this. Bent over for me, punished like you deserve. Gonna fuck you real good. Make you  _ my _ bitch now. Be good, and maybe I’ll let you come.”

 

“No,” whispers Jean. “No...I...I won’t.”

 

Mark spits again, and Jean feels it sliding down his crack, the gentle breeze cooling it on his balls. His breath is fast and thready with terror as the wide, blunt head of the older boy’s cock nestles against his hole. Strong hands grip his hips, fingers digging in painfully. 

 

“You might wanna relax,” Mark advises cheerfully as he nudges with his hips just a little, his cock head spreading Jean’s asshole a bit, “if you don’t want this to hurt too bad. Or don’t. Your ass’ll be gettin’ fucked either way.”

 

“Pl...HAH! AH!” Jean howls, his eyes flying open wide as he’s suddenly forced open by a firm shove of his assailant’s hips. The boy’s thick cock drives into him several inches, his barely stretched hole giving way reluctantly. It burns and stings, aching deep inside him as Mark withdraws a little and then forces himself deeper. Fresh tears well up in Jean’s eyes at the pain of the intrusion. He can do nothing but lie there, bound and helpless as he’s violated. Helpless cries are punched from his lungs as Mark fucks him open roughly. 

 

“So tight,” grits Mark through his teeth. “Damn, you’re so tight, Jean.”

 

“Hurts,” he whimpers. “It hurts!”

 

“It’ll stop hurting when I stop fucking,” growls the older boy, dragging his cock back slowly until just the head remains inside the sore, stretched rim of Jean’s hole. He shakes his head in negation.

 

“No...oh, no…”

 

“Oh yeah,” says Mark, and snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt. His pelvis presses hard against Jean’s hot, reddened ass, grinding into him, the bark of the logs he’s cut over the last few days scraping uncomfortably against his skin. A strangled cry is torn from his lips. 

 

“P-please,” he begs desperately. “You’re hurting me. Please stop!”

 

“Don’t hurt me at all,” replies Mark. “Now brace yourself. I’m gonna fuck you now.”

 

A harsh, guttural moan is ripped from Jean’s throat as Mark pulls back and then plunges back into him hard. To his horror, a hot flash of pleasure tightens his belly when his attacker adjusts his angle just a little so that the next thrust rubs against the small bundle of nerves a few inches inside his body. He whimpers, shaking his head. Mark laughs and does it again. Grinding himself into Jean’s sweet spot, he sets a cruel pace, fucking into his shuddering body over and over, expertly nailing him just right so that he’s helpless to prevent his body’s instinctive response. Horrified, Jean feels his cock slowly getting harder and harder with each brutal thrust. 

 

“Ngh. Ah. St-stop,” he gasps, his fingers opening and closing uselessly by his sides. His toes dig into the dying leaves on the ground as he lifts his hips to prevent his pelvis from being shredded by the wood pile. It serves only to give Mark even better access to the angle that forces pleasure on Jean’s body, whether he likes it or not.

 

“Look at you,” says Mark gruffly, “takin’ my cock in that slutty hole. You’re bein’ so good, Jean. Think I’ll let you come for me.”

 

Jean shakes his head again, closing his eyes tightly and trying to ignore the relentless assault that slowly but surely drives him closer and closer to an edge he doesn’t want to fall over this way. As his body relaxes in response to the purely instinctive pleasure of having his prostate stimulated, the pain fades to a distant ache. It’s the kind of pain he actually  _ likes _ , and his stupid dick doesn’t give a damn who’s doing it to him. The brutal, hammering thrusts slow a little and he shivers involuntarily. Oh, the bastard. It’s like he knows Jean’s body, the right angle, the right rhythm that makes him respond despite his wishes. One of his hands releases its bruising hold on Jean’s hip. He leans over and very slowly wraps his fingers around Jean’s throat. His grip tightens. It doesn’t cut off his air supply….quite. It doesn’t pinch off the blood flow that hammers through Jean’s veins along with his racing heartbeat...quite. His breath hitches in his chest.

 

“Damn you,” he gasps in a strangled, breathy whisper. Mark huffs out a laugh that ruffles Jean’s hair and tickles his ear.

 

“You like this, huh? Bent over and just  _ taken _ like you’re my little slut boy?”

 

“N-no,” protests Jean weakly, his ears red and hot with his embarrassment.

 

“No? Then how come your tight little ass is suckin’ me in? How come your cock is so hard you’re  _ dripping _ for me? Dirty boy.”

 

“I’m not,” cries Jean, turning his head to try and dislodge the fingers that only tighten even more on his throat. Has this pervert been spying on him? It’s almost like he’s in Jean’s head, can read the secrets there, the way Jean’s pulse races when his lover puts his hands around Jean’s neck and squeezes a little. It’s not fair.

 

“I was gonna give you a reach around, play with your cock to make you come for me, whether you want to or not,” whispers Mark, “but look at you. I won’t have to. You’re gonna come just from this. Come on my cock like a good little fuck toy.”

 

The filthy words are damning in their truth. Jean can feel insidious pleasure burning in his belly, curling around his spine, making his balls ache and tighten. His hole flutters and clenches around the cock violating him, and Mark gasps a little, then growls with pleasure and fucks him harder. Jean wails as he’s taken, his breath sobbing in his chest as he struggles just a little to get enough air. 

 

“Oh god,” he thinks desperately, “he’s right. I’m gonna come like this. There’s nothing I can do about it. Damn him. Bastard. Fuck, I’m so hard. How can this be?”

 

“Go on then,” pants the older boy, his thrusts becoming a little more erratic as his own pleasure mounts. Jean’s nails dig into his palms as he clenches his fists. Cries are forced from his lips as the passion being forced on his body grows teeth and claws, spiraling higher, completely beyond his control. “Come for me, Jean. Do it. Come on my cock. Jean, come for me. Come  _ now. _ ”

 

Jean’s howl is more animal than human when his body stiffens and his cock spurts streams of white spunk onto the log pile he’s bent over. His hole clamps down hard, and his assailant moans in ecstasy, his own cock twitching inside Jean’s body. He can feel the rush of warmth as Mark fills his hole with his seed. He gasps and shakes, barely aware that the hand around his throat has loosened. His ears are ringing with the power of his climax, his knees shaking a little with the effort of holding himself up. 

 

Warm lips brush the back of his neck, making him shiver. He whimpers a little when the softening cock in his ass is slowly and carefully withdrawn. He lays his cheek gingerly against scratchy bark and sighs, his eyes drifting closed as he feels warm, slightly sticky come leaking slowly from his used hole. Gentle hands stroke his back.

 

“Jean? Babe? Are...are you okay?” Marco’s voice sound anxious and worried. Jean snorts a little with hilarity when he feels a soft washcloth gently cleaning him up.

 

“Oh my god. Did you seriously bring a hand towel to a rape scene, you dork?” he asks.

 

“Of course I did,” says Marco, sounding a little affronted. “I have some cider and an apple in my knapsack too.” He sets about putting Jean’s clothing and harness back to rights, then helps him turn around and lowers both of them to the ground, leaning up against the wood pile. Marco kisses Jean tenderly and anxiously, and Jean snickers a little, returning the kiss with snarky, sloppy enthusiasm. 

 

“I’m  _ fine, _ ” he says, grinning at his dope of a boyfriend. Marco’s worried frown eases and he smiles back.

 

“So...it was okay then?”

 

“It was perfect. Damn, my ass is gonna be sore for a couple of days though.”

 

“I’m sorry! Was I too rough?” asks Marco, starting to look alarmed. Jean rolls his eyes.

 

“It’s a good kinda sore. Marco, seriously, that was hot as fuck. I was afraid all the planning, and practicing the fight and stuff was gonna make it feel a little lame, but it wasn’t. Not at all. You really surprised me. You waited so long, I seriously started to think you weren’t gonna go through with it, so I wasn’t expecting anything today. It made it feel like, spontaneous and stuff. It was awesome. You were awesome.”

 

“Well, it’s been a couple of days since we’ve been able to have any alone time. We’ve both been so tired the last couple nights and stuff. I could tell you were a little frustrated this morning, when we overslept and didn’t have time like we talked about last night, and had to hurry to roll call. So, I just thought...it should be today. I was only waiting for the right time,” explains Marco.

 

“Well, it totally was,” says Jean. He takes a long drink of cider when Marco offers him the canteen. It’s cold and sweet and good. He lays his head on Marco’s shoulder and sighs happily. Then a thought pricks at his brain, and he looks up at Marco’s sweet face. “Um. Was it...okay for you?”

 

“Oh my god,” says Marco fervently, “it was so hot. I did worry a little, about hurting you too much, but I liked it too. I liked it a lot. I don’t think it’s something we should do very often, but if...if you ever want to do something like this again, I am totally in.”

 

“Yeah,” agrees Jean. “Me too.”

 

The late afternoon Autumn sun is warm, and he feels drowsy and sated, so they stay where they are for a while, sharing the cider and the apple. It whets Jean’s appetite though, so they finally stagger to their feet and hike back towards home, Marco carrying the axe and knapsack while Jean limps a little and complains the whole time, because he’s a little shit that way. Marco laughs at him and tells him he’s not sorry at all. But of course, because he’s Marco, when they get home, he starts to fuss over Jean again and worries that maybe he had been too rough after all. 

 

Jean reassures him again, but words have never really been his strongest thing. Unless they’re snarky anyway, or really dirty. He’s more of a man of action, so when Marco asks him for the tenth (or possibly hundredth) time if he’s really okay, or if Marco had hurt him too much, Jean tackles him onto the bed. 

 

“What are you doing,” asks Marco a little breathlessly as Jean straddles his hips and grinds his ass down against Marco’s crotch with a cocky little shimmy and a dirty grin.

 

“Whaddya say? Up for round two?” Jean says, waggling his eyebrows. Marco laughs and wraps his hands around Jean’s hips.

 

“Thought you said you were sore,” he protests, not sounding terribly genuine since it’s accompanied by a hip roll that presses the evidence of his interest against Jean’s ass.

 

“I am,” agrees Jean with a sly smile. His voice drops, low and husky as he starts unbuttoning his shirt, having removed his harness already. “‘S’gonna hurt a little. Make me whimper for you. Ngh. It’ll ache inside, gettin’ fucked again so soon. You’ll have to go slow. Will you like it, babe? Fuckin’ me while I shiver? Gonna be even tighter now, probably a little swollen. Damn. I want you. Wanna feel every inch of you, pushin’ inside me slow, opening me up even though it huh-hurts a little….I can...oh!” 

 

His running litany of filth is cut off abruptly when Marco flips them, pinning Jean to the bed. His lips cover Jean’s and his kiss is hungry, his tongue teasing open Jean’s mouth and stroking inside. Jean moans into the kiss and pants eagerly when Marco breaks it to finish unbuttoning his shirt. He places sharp, biting little kisses along Jean’s collarbones while he reaches down to work at both their flies. Jean helps him enthusiastically. Fulfilling his dirty, secret fantasy really had been hot, but now he finds that he wants this...wants the real Marco, with a need that surprises him a little in its intensity. He feels silly as fuck when tears prick at the corners of his eyes as Marco touches him gently, almost reverently, and he blinks them away, reaching for Marco and holding him fiercely. Nothing snarky or dirty comes to his mind, so he just whispers the only thing that does.

 

“Marco….I love you.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Having rape fantasies does NOT mean you actually want to be raped. It doesn't meant there's anything wrong with you, and definitely doesn't give anyone, even your partner, the right to do anything to you against your will! Fantasies like this are actually about the desire to give up control, to be swept away, about being turned on by feeling helpless. This isn't the same thing as being turned on by actually BEING helpless. 
> 
> Just sayin'


End file.
